


Beauty and The Beast (Yup. We're doing this. Full Disney)

by TappingTheKeys



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Actual singing, Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast Fusion, But wtf, Everyone Is Alive, FFS is this what 2020 has made me, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I guess I don't HATE it, Ok have fun, Still - this is pretty fun, The idea was... interesting, WTF, What Have I Done, i refuse to apologise, ok, there is singnig, what the fuck, why on earth did i add singing?, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:55:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27534124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TappingTheKeys/pseuds/TappingTheKeys
Summary: Long Ago... there lived- ...   ...You know what? You've seen the movie, you read the books - you've even probably seen the live action remake. And now, people of (some) ages and (specific) interests, I bring you:Supernatural Beauty and the Beast. Sam is Belle, Lucifer is Beast. Set in 2010: a French Village that seems be stuck in the 1800's.Yes. The songs are there. And yes. This is a comedy. With a DAB of romance.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Lucifer/Sam Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	Beauty and The Beast (Yup. We're doing this. Full Disney)

Long ago, there lived an archangel in the shining palace of Heaven. But the angel was spoiled, selfish, and unkind. Then one cold night, a human stranger knocked at the door and offered him a single red rose in return for shelter from the loneliness of Heaven.

Repulsed by his bearded appearance, the angel turned the stranger away. But the man warned him not to be deceived by appearances, for Grace was found within. And when the angel dismissed him again, the stranger transformed from the small bearded human, into the Glowing Form of God.

The angel tried to apologise, but it was too late - God could see there was no love for mankind in his heart… and as punishment, he threw the angel and his followers into a gilded cage within the land of man, to live a cursed life of pity and servitude.

The rose God had offered, was truly an enchanted rose, and would bloom until the 21st Century of the 2nd millennia. If the Angel could learn to love a human, and earn their love in return before the last petal fell, then the punishment would end, and all could return to heaven forgiven.

But if he could not, the angel would be doomed to live in his gilded cage, slowly rotting through the ages into a shadow of energy and death. As the centuries passed, the gilded cage began to fade, and the angel lost all hope… for who could ever learn to love…

... the Devil?

\---

“Sammy, don’t… don’t go out there at dawn. You _know_ what goes on in this crazy place. Why the hell did we even move here? Couldn’t we have stayed in L’aurenze?”

Sam looked down at his elder brother – a swarthy, chiselled man in his early twenties. Why was he huddled into the chair by the fire, when he could be out exploring the quaint French village they had finally decided to settle in.

He offered a wide grin. “Oh, c’mon Dean – don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little music?” Sam turned and threw the door open as Dean sputtered a protest, lurching from his chair, but failing to grab his shirt and pull him back inside.

Dean stood in the doorway, and yelled after his prancing moose of a brother, “It’s not the music – IT’S THE SINGING!”

Sam strolled down the cobbled street. A strange thing to see in 2010, even for an isolated French village that seemed perpetually stuck somewhere between 1850 and 1991. The clock tower in the centre of town ticked it’s way towards 6am, and Sam wandered towards in, humming under his breath, uncaring of the relative ghostliness of the empty streets. He knew they wouldn’t stay that was for much longer…

“ _Little town… it’s a quiet village…_ ” He hummed, his light tenor vibrating through the air. “ _Every day, like the one before… little town, full of little people.._ ” He grinned at his own private joke: pretty much everyone in this town was under 5’10”, making him the one to come to for stray cats up trees etc etc. “ _Waking up to say…”_ A heavy silence, broken by the creaking of the minute hand as the clocktower began to ring out the hour.

Suddenly, the flood gates opened and people began to simultaneously slam open their window shutters, scream ‘BONJOUR!’ at each other, and proceed to fill the street in a choreographed dance.

Sam felt his phone buzz from his pocket – Dean, already reminding him to pickup pie, no doubt. He answered it with a grin on his face, knowing that his brother would hear the music going on in the streets and immediately want to hang up.

“Hey. What do you want?” A flower girl twirled past him, daintily placing a daffodil in his flannel shirt pocket.

“Sam, don’t forget to pick up- oh… oh god no… they’re singing aren’t they? IT’S NOT EVEN KARAOKE, SAMMY!”

“But Dean, you have to actually _be_ here to understand-“

“Understand what? That we moved into the cast neighbourhood from Rent? What’s even happening to make the sing like that?” Dean huffed – ready to hang up the phone if he didn’t get a satisfactory answer.

Sam grinned, his brown locks taking on a sunlit sheen as he puffed out his chest. “Well, I’m glad you asked, see…

_There goes the baker with his tray (like always)_

_The same old bread and rolls to sell-_

The dial tone beeped in Sams ear, and he chuckled to himself, putting the phone back in his pocket. He had stepped into the town centre now, and the village had truly come to life. Maidens in brightly coloured dresses and floral bonnets sold their wares and shopped amongst the morning stalls. The smells of fresh breads mixed with green vegetables and the salty scent of fresh fish from the Ocean a few miles away.

Sam felt himself move to the flow, his large body slowly getting into the tempo of the town. He continued to hum under his breath as he tipped his head to several ladies around the grocers stall, who proceeded to giggle and bid him good morning. He headed in the direction of the blacksmiths, a quaint profession that was largely out of practice in the modern era, except for in small towns such as these.

“ _Every morning just the same… since the morning that we came… to this poor, provincial town...”_

“Good morning, Sam!”

Sam grinned at Bobby the blacksmith as he blew into the store like a breath of fresh air. Bobby was a grizzled older fellow past his prime. He worked with all kinds of metals, both mundane and precious, but it was the mans heart that held true gold.

“Hey Bobby!”

Bobby hefted a large piece of cherry red iron and dropped it into a fresh water bath. _Looks like a pike,_ Sam thought, not really paying attention.

“So what brings you here?” Bobby pulled off his gloves, and invited Sam through the curtain behind the store into the den area, that held a small selection of occult items and books.

“Well, I finished _Possessions & Protections,_” he said, striding the bookshelf, “have you got anything new?”

Bobby smiled indulgently, his hobby was considered taboo in the village, so having two bright, forward thinking young men like the Winchesters move into to town was a blessing.

“Not since yesterday!” he let a small laugh escape as Sam scoured the same books he’d read time and time again.

“I’ll take… this one.” Sam grabbed a thick, leather bound volume entitled _Angelic Lore – Heavens Weapons and How to Hone Them._

Bobby raised an eyebrow, and let out a playful huff “That one? But you’ve read it twice!”

Sam held it close to his side spun around Bobby, excited. “I know, but it’s my favorite! Far off realms, daring battles, Angels in disguise-!”

Bobby interrupted him with a firm hand signal, and proceeded to lead him out into the main work room and back through the shop entrance. “Well, if you like it all that much, it’s yours.”

“But… Bobby-“ Sam hustled towards the door in front on Bobby, stuttering.

“I insist!” Bobby opened the door and ushered Sam through it, knowing the boy didn’t really want to spend the morning with him – that was more Deans cup of tea. No, Sam wanted to be out there, reading the lore, and practicing the protective magics.

“Well – thank you! Thank you very much!” Sam moved away quickly, with a broad grin and a hearty wave at the older man. He stepped onto the still musical street, holding his book like it was made of glass, and flipping through the pages indulgently. He proceeded to trip over the cobbles several times, as the town continued to sing around him.

_Look there he goes, that man is so peculiar_

_I wonder if he’s feeling well?_

Sam walked onto the street heading for the towns secondary fountain, where the washerwomen went about their business.

_It’s a pity and a sin_

_He doesn’t quite fit in_

_Very different from the rest of us_

_Is –_

The barber singing about Sam was abruptly cut off when his customers credit card declined for the third time, and a screaming match ensued.

Meanwhile, Sam had seated himself on the edge of the fountain, and flicked through his book, absorbing the images, until he came across his favourite representation of the fallen Archangel, Lucifer. A small flock of sheep ambled past him, herded by a dutiful shepherd boy.

One of the lambs jumped up on to the fountains edge and stood next to Sam, eyeing the book with interest. Sam glanced at it, and hummed a little of the premise of his novel, pretending that the lamb could understand him.

_“Oh, isn’t this amazing?_

_It’s my favourite part because… you’ll see._

_Here’s where we see the Prince of Dark-_ QUIT IT, YOU LITTLE SHIT!!!”

The lamb had bitten and torn a large piece out of the page of Sam’s book – specifically of his favourite depiction of the Morningstar. Sam slammed the book shut and got up in a huff, heading for home in anger, and ignoring the bleating lamb.

Ignoring the villagers, Sam and his storm cloud trounced home, shouldering a trio of girls as they giggled and swooned over someone behind him, knocking their harmony to the wind. He ignored the deep baritone until he heard his name in the song – then realizing who it was, and what they were singing, his back snapped up, eyes held straight and he power walked as fast as he could towards home and Dean and safety.

He’d gone maybe five steps before a muscular presence intercepted him, standing at 6’3” and successfully blocking his path home. Sam took in the red shirt, the perfectly coiffed golden brown hair, and the final harmony of the villagers song as they finished and went about their business, before letting out a gusty sigh and lowering his eyes slightly to meet the one man that couldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer in this crazy town.

“Hello Sam.” The man flashed a winning grin, and managed to somehow look both oilier and taller in the same moment. Sam shrank back, unwilling to physically brush against him.

“Bonjour, Gadreel.” Sam groaned, putting every inch of disdain that he could into the sound. This strangely fit soldier had come back from the war to a town where everything was handed to him because of his physique. That he preferred men was irrelevant – it was 2010 after all – but he seemed to take interest in only the Winchester brothers, and in Sam in particular. Perhaps it was their height, or build – so closely matching his own, and so unlike the other villagers?

Sam didn’t know, and he didn’t really care. He just wanted Gadreel out of his way.

Gadreel snatched the book from Sams hand, opening it and straing in obvious confusion at the images and runes inside.

“Gadreel, may I have my book please?” Sam barely contained his temper, managing to hold on only of the thought that if he knocked out the towns golden boy, the Winchester Brothers may find themselves without a decent place to live very soon.

“How can you READ this? It’s not even in French… or English… or… _anything_.”

“Well, maybe some people just like to expand their horizons.” Sam muttered through clenched teeth.

“Sam, it’s about time you get your head out of these books, and paid attention to more important things,” Gadreel tossed the book behind him, where it landed in a muddy puddle. Sam saw red. “Like me.” He flashed what Sam was sure he thought was a suave smile. He heard the three women he had accidentally knocked down swoon and sigh behind him.

“The whole town talking about it, it’s not _right_ for a man to read such things! It starts with the occult… then drugs…” He waved his hand as if the two were connected, and would eventually lead to the demise of the entire village. 

Sam ignored him, stepped around the man and collected his now sodden book. He quickly checked the pages – thank goodness, none of the ink was running. He’d get the secret hairdryer on it as soon as he got home. Still fuming, he barely listened as Gadreel rambled on.

“Gadreel, you are positively primeval.” Sam replied with false cheer.

Gadreel laughed self indulgently, “Why, thank you Sam.” He threw an arm around the taller man and tried to lead him back to town. “What d’you say we take a walk over to the tavern and I show you a few of my shots from Iraq?”

Sam disengaged himself and headed back towards his house, “Maybe some other time.”

The three women watching this awkward encounter commentated with each other?

“What’s wrong with him?” Lilith, in the yellow dress.

“He’s crazy!” Ruby, in red.

“He’s _gorgeous_!” Meg, in green.

Sam quickened his pace, trying to maintain some semblance of civility “Please, Gadreel – I can’t. I have to get home to help my brother. Goodbye.”

A diminutive man with steely grey hair appeared from behind Gadreel and cackled maniacally, “that crazy grease monkey, he needs all the help he can get!”

Gadreel and his lackey guffawed loudly. Sam scowled at them – Dean seemed to be the perfect victim for someone as nasty as Metatron. The little snot ball seemed to derive pleasure from seeing people fail at life.

“Don’t talk about my brother that way!” It wasn’t Deans fault that the village only had one tavern and a dozen cars to it’s name, providing him with minimal work or opportunities.

Gaston realized Metatron had offended Sam, and conked him firmly on the head. “Yeah, don’t talk about his brother that way!”

“My brother is not crazy – he’s a genius –“ A large crash was heard coming from the cottage at the end of the row. Sam spun, gave up on the verbal joust, and ran to help his brother out of whatever trouble he’d just gotten himself into with his latest project.

\---

**Author's Note:**

> Look, if you really want to read more, please comment and/or like. This is the first thing I've posted to this platform, and I'm really hoping this doesn't bomb. 
> 
> 2020 is aaaaaalmost done.


End file.
